Charlie's Gonna Be a Napalm Star
by Xixuegui
Summary: After her first year at Stanford, Veronica returns to Neptune for the summer. Her plans turn upside down when she agrees to help Logan find a blackmailer going after his brother Charlie. Can Veronica help the brothers reconcile? And what will it cost her?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

They say old habits die hard.

If I were a cynic — which I am — I might even go so far as to say there's no escaping our patterns. Like those little toy cars, we're set on a track, electricity pulling us irresistibly along in circles, again and again, until we crash.

At the moment, I'm banking on being the exception to this fundamental human flaw.

Don't get me wrong — my patterns were as repetitive and self-destructive as they come. But I like to think I've jumped the track, stayed upright and driven off into the distance, towards unknown territory.

And yet. And yet, right now, I'm driving down the PCH instead, heading back to Neptune.

Almost a year ago, I left Hearst College for Stanford. Since then, I've been putting my nose to the grindstone, trying to catch up on work for a degree in psychology and make sure I stay on track to graduate in two years. I haven't had time to think. Haven't really allowed myself to think either.

I came back for a few days around Christmas, of course, but stayed well away for spring break. I'm not really the spring break type, and Neptune — spring break capital of California — is pretty much my personal idea of hell that time of year. And every other day of the year, to be honest.

And while we're being honest, I should probably be staying away even now. Keep driving off into the distance — chase a prestigious unpaid internship, like the other psych majors are doing, and like my dad wants me to do. But here's the thing: I can't afford to.

And I can tell Dad needs my help. Every time I talk to him, he's got that Keith Mars poker face firmly in place, but I know he's taking on more than he can handle, trying to minimize the amount of loans I have to take out to afford tuition, books and, you know, food.

The worst of it is, no matter how many cases Dad takes on, it never seems like enough. It used to be Mars Investigations made most of its money tracking down bail jumpers and collecting rewards, but Dad's not getting any younger, and his days of tackling 300-pound fugitives are probably coming to an end.

So I said I'd help out over the summer. Go on some stakeouts. Do some legwork. Managed to convince Dad it'd look good on my resume — something to set me apart from the crowd. But there's another reason and, if I'm honest, it's top of the list. So help me, I _wanted_ to come back. I missed trailing suspects, rifling through drawers and digging through people's dirty laundry. Veronica Mars, the unreformed snoop.

That's maybe a moral failing, but it's less likely to get me in trouble than the other thing about Neptune I can't seem to quit. Logan Echolls. Troubled son of a murderous movie star. Picker of fights and breaker of hearts.

But that's not who I fell for. I fell for the guy who was always there. Even when we were so angry with each other that I couldn't stand to look at him, I knew I could always call for help when I was in a tight spot. I fell for the person who, for all his faults, became fiercely loyal to me, even when I gave him no reason to be.

I'm not an easy person to love, you see. To say that I have trust issues would be the understatement of the century. Being left by your mother and betrayed by your supposed best friends will do that to you. So leaving Neptune was my way of protecting not just myself, but also Logan, from a relationship that could be breathtaking at its best, but toxic at its worst.

Let's see. Falsely accused him of murdering my best friend? Check. Falsely accused him of trying to tape us having sex? Check. Falsely suspected him of infidelity? And check again.

You're a real catch, Veronica Mars.

* * *

"So should I be worried? I mean, you're a psych major now. One look at me and you've got me all figured out, right?"

"I've had you all figured out from day one, Fennel. Your dimply good looks and suspiciously friendly demeanor are clearly just a front."

"Is that so?" Wallace nodded, pretending to look thoughtful. "A front for what, might I ask?"

"An unrepentant pizza thief, apparently." Keith Mars strolled in from the next room, casting a mock-accusing glare at Veronica and Wallace, both contentedly munching on slices of pizza with an air of complete innocence. "Why wasn't I informed the pizza had arrived? You're back under my roof for two days, demon spawn, and already I'm having second thoughts. When's the new school year start again?"

Putting down her slice, Veronica danced over to her father and planted a big kiss on his cheek. "Come on, pop. You know you love me."

Keith grinned. "Sure. But a man's pizza should be sacred!"

"Hear, hear!" Wallace chimed in.

Keith grabbed a slice and a paper plate and flopped onto the nearest stool at the kitchen counter. "How's things with you, Wallace? Mechanical engineering treat you OK this year?"

Wallace fidgeted a bit, looking uncomfortable. "Well… no. I'm actually thinking about changing my major. It was really hard staying away from the court freshman year, and I still couldn't get the grades I wanted. So I focused on the team this year, and got pretty close to flunking my classes."

Keith nodded thoughtfully. "So what are you thinking?"

Wallace shrugged. "Don't know. Education maybe? Could be I've got a future in teaching. Or coaching."

Veronica screwed up her face in a thoughtful grimace. "Teaching, eh? You mean that profession where you have access to the permanent school record of every single Neptune low-life…?"

"So glad I could choose the career that's most useful for_ you_, Veronica," Wallace said drily.

"Respect the friendship dynamic, Wallace," Veronica mumbled through a mouthful of pizza. "You overstep all lines of ethics and morality for me, I get you out of trouble."

"My daughter, ladies and gentlemen," Keith grinned. "So what are you crazy kids planning tonight? Going to paint the town red? Put on the Ritz?"

"Whatever the kids call it these days." Veronica shrugged, pulling another slice of pizza onto her plate.

"I call it meeting Mac at Luchadero's," said Wallace, eyeing the last slice speculatively.

"Where absolutely no underage drinking is going to take place, of course?" said Keith, raising his eyebrows in a mock expression of concerned fatherhood.

"Of course," said Veronica, watching as Keith and Wallace took turns eyeing each other and the last slice of pizza. "Gentlemen, there's only one way to settle this. Three, two, one, go!"

* * *

"I still say it was unfair. He was closer to the box!"

"Oh, get over it, Wallace. I'll buy you another slice right now if you promise we can move on to something else," said Veronica, rolling her eyes as they strolled in the front door of Luchadero's, a hole-in-the-wall Mexican bar close to the Hearst College campus. The walls were a riot of rainbow-colored wrestling outfits, and the slightly scuffed, espresso-colored tables crowding the room gave the place a lived-in feel.

Veronica had liked it here when she went to Hearst. It was a low-key, unpretentious place. Above all, Luchadero's was far enough from the mansions of the 09er ZIP code that there was little chance of running into the moneyed classes of Neptune.

Except, apparently, tonight.

Not 10 feet away, a broad-shouldered, tousle-haired, tanned surfer type was leaning over the edge of a pool table in the corner, taking aim with his cue.

Veronica groaned. "Figures."

Thinking she might as well get this over with, she took a step towards the pool table.

"Dick."

The surfer type straightened up, hitching a surprised eyebrow. "Well lookee here, it's Veronica Mars. Thought you left town. Just couldn't stay away from me, could you?"

"That's right, Dick. I live for these inane conversations that pass for flirtation in your tiny, tiny brain."

"You know," Dick went on, mock thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, no rich dudes have gone to prison, skipped the country or been accused of murder since you left. Why not keep a good thing going?"

Veronica crossed her arms, settling in for the verbal sparring match. "I'm so happy I could make the streets safe again for your keg-standing, date-raping ilk."

Dick gave an unaffected shrug as Veronica felt Wallace tugging on her elbow. "Come on, Veronica. Let's find a table."

"Yes. Excellent suggestion." She turned to go, only to hear Dick call after her: "You know, Logan's been with a_ lot_ of chicks this year. Much hotter than you, actually. Doesn't seem to miss you at all."

Veronica stopped dead.

"Don't take the bait, Veronica. Don't take the bait," Wallace hissed at her.

Suddenly, he tensed up. Veronica was just about to turn and see what he was looking at when she heard it.

"I thought we had a gentlemen's agreement here, Dick. We pause the game until I'm back from the bathroom. Don't think I can't tell you got an extra shot in."

Veronica froze. She'd know that voice anywhere. Mellow and quiet, but with an edge to it. And edge that warned you to be on your guard. Not to underestimate. Plenty of people had ignored that warning at their peril. Veronica was one of the few people who knew that it masked an intense vulnerability; a young man in constant disbelief at how much the world had taken from him.

He looked up, saw her. Stopped short. "Hey."

_Easy now_, Veronica thought. _It's been a year. We can at least be polite, right? _ "Hey."

He smiled, tentatively. "Of all the tequila joints in all the world…"

Veronica tried to wipe her face clean of all emotion, but suspected she was falling well short. "My thoughts exactly."

"You just watch your step, Veronica," said Dick, leaning onto her shoulder conspiratorially. "I won't have you reducing my boy Logan to a pathetic, mopey whipping boy again. It's summer, man! 'Tis the season for brews and babes."

Veronica deftly stepped out from under Dick, forcing him to execute an undignified pirouette to stay upright.

"Thought that was every season for you, Dick," Wallace said drily.

The corner of Logan's mouth twitched. "You're not wrong." He gave a little nod in Wallace's direction. "Hey, Wallace."

Wallace nodded back. "Haven't seen you around campus much lately. You still going?"

Logan gave a crooked grin. "Oh, here and there. You wouldn't believe the many demands on my time. Shareholder meetings, debutante balls, fundraisers, high tea… I could go on." He underscored the point with a little twirl of the wrist, then turned to pick up his cue. "Well, it's been good seeing everybody."

Veronica scowled at Dick. "It's like I never left."

"I'm here all week," Dick grinned, and waggled a hand at Veronica in imitation of a ringing phone. "Call me."

Veronica grabbed Wallace's arm and steered him towards the bar. She could feel Logan's eyes following her all the way.

* * *

Mac arrived at their table five minutes later. Veronica grinned at her. "Man, it's good to see a friendly face."

"Friendly, huh?" Mac grinned. "Doesn't sound like me. You sure you're thinking of the right face?"

They ordered margaritas and, courtesy of Veronica's talent for producing convincing fake IDs, were soon on the third round. Veronica was starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy, listening to Mac tell yet another entertaining anecdote about going on a tech support call, only to find that the student's computer issues could be traced back to a failure to plug the damn thing into the wall.

Wallace leaned back, relaxed, laughing. Veronica, for once, felt reasonably at peace with the world, and immensely fond of her friends.

Then: "A word, Veronica?"

She turned to see Logan, standing just a bit too close and looking tipsy. _Oh right, this is what trouble looks like_, Veronica thought. _Almost forgot._

"You know, we were kind of—" Mac started, but Veronica interrupted.

"It's fine. Excuse me for just a minute, guys." Trying for nonchalance, she slid off her chair and walked towards a quiet corner near the bathrooms. She navigated the room with the exaggerated caution of the slightly drunk and was relieved when she managed to make it across without knocking into anything.

Logan leaned against the wall next to her, standing just a little too close. She could smell him — that particular mix of laundry detergent, deodorant and saltwater, with a hint of something uniquely him that she found hard to describe but always made her breath come a little bit faster.

"Were you going to tell me you were back in town?" The edge in his voice was knife-sharp.

She looked him full in the face. "I wasn't."

He nodded, jaw working. Then he took a big breath, getting himself under control with a visible effort. "I guess I appreciate the honesty. But I thought after everything we've been through together, we'd still be friends, at least."

When Veronica spoke, she was relieved to find her voice sounded steady. She wasn't feeling particularly steady. "We are. But if I'm honest, it seemed easier not to tell you. You don't exactly bring out my best qualities."

He looked straight at her, frowning. "Guess I haven't always been exactly proud of myself around you either." Suddenly, he flashed a grin and landed a playful punch on her shoulder. "But isn't that what makes this fun?"

"Fun, heartbreaking. Potato, po-tah-to."

"Heartbreaking, huh? Gee, Veronica, I didn't know you still cared."

She looked at him suspiciously, but he was still smiling. If there was a shadow behind the smile, he didn't let it show.

"But if we _are_ friends, we've got some catching up to do."

"We do?"

"Sure. How's good old Piz?"

"Good old Piz?" She nodded, taking a deep breath. _Don't bring up the fight. Don't bring up the fight_. "Good old Piz, who needed 10 stitches when you were done with him?"

And there it was, the shadow. It moved across his face for just a second, dimming his smile. She'd managed to hit a sore spot. She always did, sooner or later.

"I apologized for that. And you know why I did it."

"I know. You thought he'd besmirched my lily-white reputation by posting a sex tape online. And you were wrong." She could feel the anger rising up inside her, like a tidal wave. She had no power to stop it coming. "I just wonder. With all the years you've known me, didn't it occur to you that I would want to take care of the person who did it myself? That I didn't need you to… to _rescue_ me?"

She knew she was raising her voice. She looked back at Wallace and Mac at the bar. They were pretending not to watch her and Logan, but casting furtive glances at them occasionally. Wallace looked vaguely apprehensive, as though he was waiting to see whether Logan would punch the wall or start kissing Veronica. _Neither would be out of_ _character_, she thought. _And the night's still young-ish._

When Logan spoke again, his voice was so quiet, she had to strain to hear. "Yes. It did occur to me. I wonder if you've noticed, but for years, I tried to take care of you. To prove that I could, if you'd let me. You never did."

Veronica suddenly felt a familiar tug of sadness. This was their pattern. Trying to engage with each other, and failing. Getting angry. Then regretting it.

Trying not to let the sadness show on her face, Veronica focused on a point somewhere to the left of Logan's ear. "OK, let's reset. As far as I know, Piz is doing fine. We broke up a couple of months after I left Hearst."

"I'm sorry to hear that." To Veronica's surprise, he actually sounded it, too. "It wasn't… it didn't have anything to do with me being an ass, did it?"

She smiled. "No. It was just the distance, I think. We kind of grew apart." She took a deep breath. _Come on, Veronica. Try for a little honesty. He's earned that much._ "That's not totally true. I think it was mostly my fault, actually. I really liked him, but I didn't… love him. I think he loved me, and it was driving him crazy that I couldn't feel the same way."

Logan nodded, listening. Whatever else was wrong with their relationship, he'd always known how to listen without prying.

"What about Parker?" she asked. "You guys ever make up?"

Logan shrugged. "Parker was great, but I wasn't really that upset when we broke up. It was an easy relationship while it lasted." He grinned. "So, you know, not the kind of thing that holds my interest, I guess."

Again, Veronica was uncomfortably aware of how close he was. She crossed her arms, determined not to close what little space remained between them. She knew Logan had noticed, but he said nothing. She was trying to stop herself from asking the next question on her mind, but Logan seemed to have read her mind.

"There isn't anyone else. Not anyone serious, anyway."

"Sorry to hear that." It might have been her imagination, but Veronica didn't think she sounded half as sincere as Logan had a minute ago. There was a pause, and Veronica suddenly wished she was still back at Wallace and Mac's table, reminiscing and listening to tech support anecdotes. Or anywhere else, really.

"I think when we started this conversation, we were talking about being friends," Logan said quietly. "Friends hang out, don't they?"

"So I've heard," said Veronica, not meeting his eyes. Suddenly, she felt his hand on her arm. His grip was warm and firm, and her skin tingled where he touched it. She looked up. Big mistake. Those warm brown eyes of his had always made her go slightly weak in the knees.

"I live in a condo at the beach now. 1934 Oceanfront Drive. Come by tomorrow afternoon if you can — I'll be around."

Before she could respond, he was gone.

* * *

"What was that all about?"

"He just… wanted to make plans to hang out." _There. That was at least a version of the truth_, she thought.

"And did you?" asked Mac, frowning.

"I think so? He said I should come by his place tomorrow."

Mac scoffed. "Well, that should be totally fine. No issues there at all."

Wallace frowned at her. "You're being a bit hard on him, don't you think? He's got a short fuse, but he's actually a pretty decent guy."

Veronica grinned. "Sweet, fair-minded Wallace. Your world has no place for irrational resentment."

"I know he's a good guy," Mac broke in. "At least, he can be. He's also Veronica kryptonite. Or Veronica crack. I haven't quite figured out which."

"Let me know when do figure it out won't you?" Veronica grinned. "Or I will, if I get there first."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Veronica was happy to find she wasn't much worse for wear — only a mild headache, which responded admirably to a couple of ibuprofen pills.

She spent most of the next few hours on a stakeout, tailing a balding, middle-aged Kane Software programmer who was supposed to be happily married and also at work, but seemed to be heading out for a tryst instead.

Veronica gave a resigned little sigh when she saw him pull into the Camelot motel, chosen den of iniquity for most of Neptune's unfaithful spouses.

Her lens trailed him up the motel's outside stairs, to a second-floor room. The door opened, and Veronica's target was pulled inside by… a young man with handsomely tousled hair.

"Well, how about that?" Veronica murmured to herself. "You HAVE been naughty."

A movement in the corner of her vision caught Veronica's eye. A tall, slim, dark-haired man strolled across the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched. He was wearing khakis and a wrinkled, light-blue button-up.

Veronica pointed her lens at him. "Wait. No, it can't be. Oh, surely not."

* * *

Oceanfront Drive was lined with gated condo and townhouse communities that were meant to look cute, but couldn't quite overcome the forbidding air that comes with tall fences and strictly uniform building plans.

It was strange to think of Logan living here, in this almost suburban place where people would value conformity above everything else. _Then again_, she thought as she drove through the gate, _a perfect surfing beach just a short stroll away. Maybe not so strange after all. _

1934 was a squat, two-storied building tacked onto the end of a block of townhouses. Veronica took a deep breath, then rang the doorbell.

She figured it would take a while for Logan to come to the door, but barely five seconds passed before he stood in front of her. Almost as though he'd been waiting.

_Don't, Veronica_, she thought. _That way lies madness._

But when she got a good look at him, she couldn't help but smile. "I can't believe you're still wearing that." She nodded toward his long-sleeved, olive-colored T-shirt. "You used to wear it like three days a week even back in our freshman year at Neptune High. I would've thought you could afford a new shirt every once in a while."

He shrugged. "It's comfortable, so I'm wearing it till it rots off my shriveled old bones." He stepped aside to let her in. "Voila… Casa de Logan."

She stepped inside, looking around curiously. It was the first time she'd ever seen Logan living anywhere he'd chosen and decorated for himself. For much of their relationship, he had lived in a penthouse suite at the Neptune Grand. His childhood home had been irreparably damaged in a fire set by the PCHers and, in any case, hadn't exactly been filled with happy memories.

Overall, the décor was understated. A couple of interesting shells. Some bookshelves. Here and there a framed print of a classic movie. Veronica smiled when she spotted an Easy Rider poster signed by Dennis Hopper. Logan's favorite movie, and the first one he'd made her watch when they started dating. Memorabilia for movies starring Aaron Echolls, Logan's abusive father, were noticeably absent.

The centerpiece was a big French window with a stunning, unimpeded view of the ocean. "So this is the kind of sweet living a trust fund can buy," she said sardonically.

"It ain't the Neptune Grand, but it'll do," he said with a shrug. "Can I offer you anything?"

"Maybe a cup of coffee."

"Feeling a bit hung over?"

She grimaced. "Not so much that. Just in need of perking up."

"I expect it's the strain of talking to me." His tone sounded matter-of-fact, but before Veronica could gauge his expression, he grinned and turned his back while he popped a pod into his coffeemaker. Veronica was trying hard to think of how to broach the subject that was on her mind. When Logan returned with two steaming mugs, she decided just to dive right in.

"You'll never guess who I saw at the Camelot today."

Logan slid open the glass door to his front deck and sat down at one end of a soft, white couch.

Veronica planted herself firmly at the other end.

"Was it Charlie?"

"Wait, what? How did you know?"

"He's been staying in town. He gave me a call a couple of days ago."

"I didn't know you guys were talking."

Logan gave a wan smile. "We weren't, for the longest time. I kept leaving him messages. Probably crossed the line into harassment."

"He and I can start a club," Veronica said acidly, and regretted it almost immediately. For a while after their last breakup, Logan had tended to leave her long, rambling voicemail messages, alternately blaming her for her trust issues, apologizing for his own missteps and swearing his undying love for her.

The chill in the atmosphere was suddenly unmistakable. "Yeah, well. Prudence and restraint weren't high on the list of virtues my parents taught me. Come to think of it, they didn't teach me any virtues."

"Logan, I'm sorry," she said, and meant it. "I don't know why I always seem to want to jump down your throat."

"It's because our issues have issues," he said, bending forward to set his coffee cup on a small glass table. As he did so, his arm brushed hers. She moved further back into her corner, all the while trying her best to ignore the voice in the back of her head that kept telling her to reach out and touch him.

"So, Charlie," she began, trying to steer the conversation back onto safe ground. "What made him come around?"

"He's being blackmailed."

"What?"

"Someone claims to have copies of emails from Charlie to one of his students. She's underage. Apparently, there's some pretty explicit stuff in them."

Veronica whistled softly. "What makes you think he's innocent?"

Logan shrugged. "I don't, necessarily. But I want to. He's my brother, and he's finally talking to me."

"Which brings me back to the why. As in, why is he here?"

"The blackmailer says he has tabloid contacts, and he's threatening to sell the information if he doesn't get a better offer from Charlie. Charlie has no idea how to deal with this kind of thing. He came to Neptune to see if I could help him. Figured I might be able to, having had more… experience."

Logan fidgeted uncomfortably and suddenly became very interested in the ocean view in front of them. Veronica knew he was thinking of his many uncomfortable, occasionally violent run-ins with sleazeball reporters and paparazzi over the years — not least of all, one who'd pretended to be Charlie to get Logan to spill secrets of his troubled relationship with his famous father. "Guess he's right about the experience. Not sure he picked the person with the best judgment though."

Veronica smiled. "I'm glad you said it so I didn't have to."

Logan turned to her. "So this is where I show my true colors. Cue the 'I need your help, Veronica' speech."

"Ha. And here I thought you honestly just wanted to catch up." She sighed and stared determinedly at her coffee cup. Finally, her face softened. "I guess you want me to find whoever's doing this to Charlie so you can punch them in the face?"

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "That's about the size of it."

"Careful now. I'm not helping you beat another murder rap."

Logan chuckled softly. "Yeah, I've been trying not to show up on the nightly news anymore." He leaned forward, taking another sip from his coffee cup. Veronica was careful to stay out of reach this time. _Stay strong now_, she thought, but couldn't help glancing at his back, which had grown noticeably less boyish and more muscular since she'd last seen him.

"I'd really appreciate it if you could get Charlie out of this jam," he said, sounding carefully casual. But Veronica had learned to read his body language well over the years, and knew he was a lot more tense than he let on.

"This is really important to you."

It wasn't a question, and Logan didn't take it as such. "Yeah. He's the last family member I have left, and I basically ruined his life. I'd really like to get back on his good side."

Shifting into a deliberately light and playful tone, he asked: "So what's your going rate these days?"

The topic of payment was an awkward one. The first time Logan had ever hired Veronica, to find his missing mother, he had tried to pay her. She had ripped up the check in front of his eyes. She'd helped him out more times than she could count after that. Always for free. She could tell he was testing the waters — didn't want to assume.

Finally, she said, surprising herself, "Your money's no good here."

"Really? Because I'll gladly pay if…" He stopped, and she knew immediately why.

Shortly before their last breakup, they'd been cuddled up in bed together, just talking. Veronica had been helping an acquaintance at Hearst track down a prostitute he'd developed feelings for, so the topic was on her mind.

"You know, if I were a hooker, this snuggle would cost you," she'd said.

"I'll gladly pay."

"Really?"

"For this? Cash money."

Veronica blinked rapidly, trying to shake the memory. When she looked up, she found Logan looking at her intently. In spite of herself, she leaned towards him. He moved forward, until their foreheads almost touched. She could feel his breath on her face, smelling like coffee, and vaguely like mint. She smiled at the thought that he'd brushed his teeth just before she got there.

His hand came up to touch the side of her face, and he gently kissed her on the cheek.

"I… I should go," she said, her voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched to her.

He nodded and pulled back. She suddenly felt a keen sense of loss, but decided not to explore it further. Not now, anyway. "Let me know when I can meet with Charlie. I'll need to hear his story first-hand," she said, gathering up her bag. She was trying her hardest not to look at Logan.

"Sure," she heard him say softly. As she turned to go, he squeezed her hand. "Bye, Veronica." Then he let go.


	3. Chapter 3

Room 118 at the Camelot was nondescript and shabby. The wallpaper was covered in pale patches, where pictures had once hung or furniture once stood, then been moved. A cheap seascape painting hung in pride of place above the single bed. The TV set looked older than Veronica. Charlie had made an attempt to straighten up the sheets on the bed, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by a mysterious stain on one side of the comforter.

Veronica looked around, taking it all in. "So, um… why did you want to meet here? We would've been more comfortable at my dad's office, or at Logan's."

Charlie shrugged. He had risen to shake Veronica's hand, but was now settled on the edge of his bed again. His hair was much darker than Logan's, but had a similar texture. Their eyes were the same shade of brown, a fact Veronica found extremely disconcerting. They must have inherited those eyes from Aaron, but Veronica supposed the effect in that case must have been dimmed by his malice and sociopathic tendencies.

"I'm trying to keep a low profile," Charlie was saying. "The circus has died down a little bit, but I still get the occasional photographer waiting for me. I don't want to risk going to Logan's or any other place that might draw attention."

Veronica set her bag on a nearby wooden table, which swayed precariously under the burden. "I get that, but you should know that there's almost always at least one camera pointed at this place. That's how I found out you were here. Doing a stakeout."

Charlie frowned. "Why?"

"Well," said Veronica, cautiously settling herself on one of the room's two chairs. The thing didn't collapse right away, and she adopted a more relaxed pose. "This is the place all the rich and upper-middle-class folks in Neptune take their, um, booty buddies that they don't want anybody to know about. Between private eyes hired by suspicious spouses and paparazzi hoping to catch a cheating celebrity, this place is pretty much under 24/7 surveillance."

"Fantastic." Charlie sighed, then flashed a crooked smile at Veronica that reminded her alarmingly of Logan's. "Obviously, I'm new to this whole sneaking-around thing."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," grinned Veronica. "PhD in sneaking around, right here."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her.

"That didn't come out quite right. What I mean is, I know how to hide people. I also know how to find people who don't want to be found. That's why I'm here. Well, that, and because Logan asked me."

Charlie fidgeted, nervously tugging at the edge of the violently floral-patterned comfort he was sitting on. "I've got to admit, I was a bit skeptical when Logan said his ex-girlfriend would be helping me out."

"His _PI_ ex-girlfriend," Veronica grinned. "Fully licensed since my 18th birthday."

Charlie returned her grin, looking a little more at ease. "I guess it's still hard for me to relate to him. He and I have led very different lives. At least, we did until recently." There was no mistaking the slight note of bitterness.

"Look," said Veronica, leaning forward to face Charlie more directly. "I know you didn't choose this. You wouldn't even be in this tight spot if it wasn't for Logan. But believe me when I tell you that he's really sorry for what he did. And he never would have done it if he hadn't thought…"

"I know, I know," Charlie said. "He already told me all that. And I guess I believe him. But it isn't that easy." He looked up at Veronica. "I got fired, you know."

Veronica's face fell. "Fired?"

"From my teaching job. I guess they felt the constant media circus was" — he raised his fingers to make air quotes — "negatively impacting the students' learning environment." He sighed. "The worst thing is, I couldn't even disagree with them. It was totally unacceptable. I had paparazzi following me everywhere. One managed to burst into a classroom while I was teaching." Charlie suddenly became very interested in a seagull pecking at a stray Cheeto on the railing outside.

Feeling sorry for him, Veronica said: "It must have been awful. And, look, I'm not trying to defend what Logan did. But I guess I'm hoping you can understand where he was coming from. He poured his heart out to that Norman guy. Confided in him about some of the truly, truly awful stuff Aaron did to him." She tried to catch Charlie's eye, but he was still staring determinedly out the window. "Anyway, it's not my place to share any of those stories, but I just… Logan never had much of a family. It'd be nice if he could change that."

Charlie looked back at her, having composed himself. "For an ex-girlfriend, you seem to care about him a lot."

Veronica shrugged. "I've known him a long time. He's not always the easiest person to get along with. Neither am I." Now it was her turn to stare at the seagull, which had managed to swallow about half the Cheeto and was now busily attacking the other half.

"I did look you up, you know," Charlie said, trying and failing to sound casual. "You testified in my… in Aaron's trial. Must have been awkward."

Keeping her voice carefully controlled, Veronica said: "Look, if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about that. It's not one of my favorite memories." She reached into her bag, pulling out her notepad. "And anyway, that's not why I'm here."

Charlie looked taken aback for a moment, but then his expression softened. "Sorry. You're right. You probably want to know if I did it."

"Did you?"

"No." Charlie looked straight at Veronica, his eyes open and unguarded. _If he's a liar_, she thought, _he's a damn good one_. "I would never get involved with a student. Never. I love teaching."

"I'll help you," said Veronica. "But I'll tell you a story. When I was a junior in high school, a girl accused my history teacher of having an affair with her. I proved she was lying, but I found out later that he did have an affair with another student and got her pregnant. I got her to come forward. Mr. Rooks never taught again."

Charlie frowned. "Point being?"

"Point being," said Veronica, leaning toward Charlie, "that if I find out you did sleep with your student, I'm not going to let you off the hook just because you happen to be related to Logan. That's not me."

Charlie gave Veronica a long, hard look. "That suits me just fine."


	4. Chapter 4

"So if Charlie says he didn't do it, can't we just track down this girl and get her to make a statement?"

"Just a little problem with that. She died two months ago. Charlie told me she was in a car accident. Her mom was killed too. It was in the papers. I checked."

Veronica was sitting at her desk, scrolling down an article about Charlie on The Instigator's website. "Aaron Echolls' Love Child Leaves Teaching Job; Is a Movie Career Next? Charlie Stone, recently revealed love child of late superstar Aaron Echolls, is considering a career in the movies, a source close to him exclusively reveals."

"That's awful," Logan said quietly from the other end of the line. "What about the blackmail letter? Any clues there?"

"'He's definitely inherited Aaron's talent and good looks,' the source went on to say. 'He really thinks he has a shot.' In fact, Stone was seen recently meeting with well-known Hollywood producer…"

"Veronica?"

"Sorry," she said quickly. "Just reading an article about Charlie in The Instigator. Not exactly what you'd call public-service journalism."

"Yeah, a couple years ago they wrote this thing about how I'd joined a cult and was blowing all my dear departed dad's inheritance on meditation gurus. I got hate mail for weeks." Picking up on the weariness in Logan's voice, Veronica quickly changed the subject. "So, you were asking about the letter. Well, there aren't any fingerprints other than Charlie's on it, and there's no handwriting. It's postmarked from Malibu, but Malibu has three different post offices and they're all pretty busy. Besides the printed email, there's just a typed letter demanding $500,000 in exchange for a hard drive containing all the rest of the emails he claims to have. The blackmailer says he'll send Charlie the details of the exchange once he's agreed to pay. He has until three days from today to respond."

"How's he supposed to contact the guy?"

"He's supposed to send an email to payme . I asked Mac to see if we could figure out where the email account was set up, and she was able to trace it."

"That's great!"

"Hold your horses. It was set up at the Central Library in LA. Anyone could have used those computers. You don't even need a guest login. And that library is so busy, chances of anyone noticing a particular person at the time are basically zilch."

Logan didn't say anything for a while. "So… is there anything else you can try?"

"Well, I asked Charlie whether he could think of anyone who might want to do this to him. He insists he doesn't have any enemies."

Logan scoffed.

"Exactly. Most people do, but some are oblivious or just don't want to admit to it. Not sure which category Charlie falls into, but I'm planning to find out."

"How?"

"I'm taking a trip to San Juan Capistrano today. Visit Charlie's mom, and the principal at his old school. Hopefully one of them'll tell me, 'Oh yeah, there's this one guy who always hated Charlie; I bet it's him.' That would be really helpful."

Logan chuckled drily. "Veronica Mars, the eternal optimist."

"That's me."

"Listen," Logan said, the slightest note of hesitation in his voice. "Would you come to dinner with me tonight?"

"Uh…" Veronica fidgeted in her chair. "Logan, I don't know if that's-"

"Please. If you won't let me pay you for all your help, at least let me buy you a nice meal."

Veronica hesitated for another couple of seconds. Then she said: "Alright."

* * *

When Veronica hung up the phone, she looked over at Mac, who had been lounging on the couch that was usually reserved for waiting clients, hard at work on a laptop.

"Any luck?"

"Please," said Mac, giving her a "what do you think?" kind of luck. "Hacking into an email server? I figured out how to do that in elementary school."

Veronica slid out of her swivel chair and sat down next to Mac. "And?"

"That email to Sara was dated six months ago, so I'm pulling up Charlie's email history for the past year or so. If he sent a skeezy email to Sara, or any others, it'll be here."

A list of messages populated the screen, and Mac typed Sara's address into the browser's search bar. "Here's one. Dated seven months ago."

Mac clicked on the email. "Dear Mr. Stone, attached is the essay for extra credit. Please let me know if you have any questions. Sara."

Veronica pointed to the attachment. "Click on that."

Mac did, and the attachment opened. It was an essay analyzing the use of slang words in Catcher in the Rye.

There were four more emails between Charlie and Sara, but all of them were strictly innocuous — questions about homework or something discussed in class.

"Looks like our boy Charlie is clean," said Veronica, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "At least, if he did have a thing going with Sara, they weren't stupid enough to create an electronic paper trail."

Mac looked at her questioningly. "So we both know this isn't strictly speaking totally legal and wouldn't be admissible as evidence if it came to that. So couldn't you reach out to the company that owns the server and get confirmation from them that that email is a fake?"

"Sure, but that would take more than three days," Veronica said, walking back to her desk and starting to pile her phone, a notepad and various other odds and ends into her bag. "In the meantime, the blackmailer releases that email and any others he's managed to fake, and Charlie's reputation is ruined. Even if we prove later that the accusation was false, that kind of thing is very hard to shake."

She slipped into her shoulder bag and grabbed her jacket off the chair. "We better hope this trip gets me a new lead. Otherwise, we need to figure out how to get our hands on $500,000 by Friday."

* * *

The drive down to San Juan Capistrano was a pleasant one. The Le Baron purred down the PCH and a mild wind came in through the open window, whipping Veronica's hair and clearing her head.

_A clear head_, she thought. _That's exactly what I need now. Where on Earth am I going to get my hands on $500,000? _

Veronica could usually rustle up a few thousand in cash when the occasion called for it, but this was a different ballgame. The obvious solution involved Aaron's trust funds for his sons. She knew Charlie and Logan both had them, but also that Charlie's slice of the pie was much smaller. And as a former teacher who was between jobs, it was doubtful he had half a million in savings tucked away.

Then there was Logan. He'd discovered the existence of his brother only because his trust fund was running out faster than expected. Having seen the financial documents, Veronica suspected Logan would have just enough to put himself through another couple of years of college, maybe put away a small nest egg. But then?

_Alright, Mrs. Stone_, she thought. _You better give me something to work with._


	5. Chapter 5

Mrs. Stone lived in a modest bungalow on a quiet residential street. Like Charlie, she had received her share of tabloid attention following Logan's appearance on Larry King, and had only agreed to invite a complete stranger into her home at Charlie's insistence.

As Veronica walked up the footpath leading to the front door, she noticed weeds encroaching on the tiles, in some cases beginning to lift them off the ground. The house had once been painted a light blue, it seemed, but the California sun had reduced that coat to insignificance, and exposure to wind and water was causing the paint to peel in places. The wraparound porch held an assortment of weathered wicker chairs, rusting gardening tools and a small gnome, whose chipped and faded paint made him look very much at home.

Veronica knocked, then waited. Just as she was raising her hand to try a second time, the door opened. Mrs. Stone's sleek black hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she wore a neatly pressed floral blouse, and skinny jeans in a matching tone of hot pink. On her chest dangled a gold medallion decorated with ornate silver swirls. She looked well-put together and much younger than her likely age, given the fact that she had a son in his 20s. _A neat person in a messy house_, Veronica thought. _Interesting._

"You must be Veronica," Mrs. Stone said, extending her hand with a gracious smile. As if reading Veronica's mind, she added: "Please forgive the state of my yard. My career involves a lot of travel and does not leave much time for housework."

Veronica smiled and nodded. One of the few things she knew about Charlie's mother was that she had met Aaron Echolls on the job as a first-class flight attendant.

"So do you live alone, Mrs. Stone?" Veronica asked as she followed her host through a poorly lit hall into a small dining area that abutted a semi-circular kitchen counter.

Mrs. Stone motioned for Veronica to sit at the table. "Oh no. My husband lives here too. He is a pilot, but he works for a different airline. We do not get to spend a lot of time together." She smiled ruefully. "Anything I can offer you?"

"No, thanks. And I won't take up much of your time. Charlie told you about the situation?"

Anita's face suddenly darkened considerably. "He did. And believe me, he would never have done such a thing. His father and I raised him to be a good, upstanding boy."

"His fa-"

"My husband, Mr. Stone, adopted Charlie when he was two years old. We consider him Charlie's true father," Anita said coolly.

_Except when it comes to collecting on Charlies' trust fund, I guess_, Veronica thought.

"I understand," she said, hitching a disarmingly bright smile onto her face. "Can you think of anyone, anyone at all, who might want to frame Charlie?"

Anita frowned. "I've been thinking about it. A lot, believe me. And there is really only one person who comes to mind."

_Yahtzee_, Veronica thought. She couldn't help edging forward slightly in her chair. "And who would that be?"

Mrs. Stone gestured vaguely, as though trying to swat away a pesky insect. "This new girlfriend of his. He seems to think he's in love with her, but they've only known each other for a few months. He brought her home one day. I did not care for her. It was obvious to me she was only interested in his new fame." She almost spat the last word.

"But," Veronica began, treading carefully, "I don't quite understand. Is she Charlie's girlfriend?"

Anita scoffed. "So he says."

"Then why would she want to blackmail him?"

"To get all his money out of him and then dump him, of course," said Anita, wide-eyed, as though Veronica had demanded to know why one and one should equal 2.

Veronica nodded. "I'll certainly look into it. What's her name?"

"She gave me a name," Anita said, with visible distaste. "But I'm sure it was a fake."

"What name did she give?" Veronica asked.

Anita laughed mirthlessly. "Estefania St. Clair. I mean, what kind of a name is that?"

* * *

"Thank you for seeing me," Veronica said, taking a seat in front of a large, impressive teak desk. The office was tastefully decorated with framed pictures of school events and paintings of seascapes — though of a much more elevated style than the ones the Camelot favored.

Principal Alicia Robson was a well-dressed woman in her 50s with sleek blonde hair that framed her face in a flattering way Veronica supposed it cost hundreds of dollars a month to maintain. She fixed Veronica with an appraising stare that suggested she wasn't someone easily fooled or lightly crossed.

"My pleasure," she said. "You did suggest it was a matter of some interest to the school, and I certainly hope that's true. You may imagine I have a lot of free time on my hands during the summer, but that is not the case."

Veronica nodded with a very creditable imitation of meekness. "I understand. I just have a few questions about someone who used to teach at your school. Charlie Stone."

Ms. Robson's eyebrows immediately rose in suspicion. "You're not one of those awful…"

"No, no," said Veronica quickly. "I'm not a reporter. In fact, I'm a private investigator working on his behalf to investigate an accusation against him." She produced her PI license, which Ms. Robson inspected with obvious skepticism.

"You look a bit young to be a private detective."

Veronica gave her a winning smile. "You might say I was raised in the business."

Ms. Robson made a small, disapproving noise in her throat. "Well. What do you wish to know?"

"When Mr. Stone was a teacher here, was there ever any suggestion that he had… an improper relationship with a student?"

"Certainly not," said Ms. Robson with finality. "We take that sort of thing very seriously. He would have been suspended immediately."

"I'm sure you checked into his background before you hired him," Veronica said reassuringly.

"Naturally," said Ms. Robson crisply. "His record was spotless. Otherwise, we would not have hired him."

Veronica nodded sagely, as though this was exactly what she had expected. "I only have one more question. Was there anyone at the school, anyone at all, who might have had a grudge against Mr. Stone? Another teacher? A student?"

For the first time, Ms. Robson's face softened, and she looked genuinely regretful. "I don't believe there was. In all my career, I never knew a teacher who was so beloved by both his colleagues and students. Mr. Stone was an excellent teacher. I was very sorry to let him go. But the publicity surrounding him was becoming increasingly disruptive, and after that photographer entered one of our classrooms, I had no choice."

"I understand," said Veronica, rising to go. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me."

Veronica left the principal's office and walked down the deserted corridors, back to the parking lot. Along the way, she noticed a display case showing a large collage of photographs with the header, "Another Great Year."

At the center of the collage was a photo that showed Charlie, surrounded by students, posing in front of the Getty Museum. He looked happy.

* * *

Back in the Le Baron, but still in the school parking lot, Veronica typed out a quick text to Mac: "Do it now."

Ten minutes later, Ms. Robson emerged, walking quickly to her car and driving away. Veronica chuckled to herself. After she'd made the appointment to see the principal, she had looked up her address in the Prying Eyez database. A quick glance at Google Maps' new Street View feature had showed a sign on Ms. Robson's lawn advertising that her house was protected by a well-known alarm company. Mac had assured Veronica that triggering the alarm remotely was "like taking candy from a baby."

Veronica headed to her trunk and retrieved a big cardboard box, heading back to the school. She soon found what she was looking for: a janitor, buffing the floor of one of the hallways.

"Hey there," she chirped in her best Valley Girl accent. "Oh, it's like, so great I ran into you. I'm Ms. Robson's student aide, and she asked me to take this to the record room, like, right away." She tipped her box toward the janitor, showing him it was full of files. "But silly me, I completely forgot to ask her for the key, and now she's left, and I _just _don't know what to do." She flashed a bright smile at the man, who was young enough to look extremely pleased at the attention. "Could you help me, please?"

Within a few more minutes, Veronica was setting down her box of empty folders and picking the lock on a tall filing cabinet marked "teacher records."

"Alright, Charlie. Let's see what this school really knows about you."


	6. Chapter 6

Veronica paced nervously up and down the boardwalk outside Cosima. It was one of Neptune's most upscale restaurants, with a private boat dock and a string of fairy lights twinkling all along the wooden walkway to the entrance. The large ocean-view windows all along the restaurant's front were tinted ever so slightly, so that the guests inside would have an unimpeded view without the fear of being spotted themselves by the riff-raff outside.

Logan had suggested dates at Cosima many times, but Veronica had always declined. It rubbed her the wrong way to have him pay her way at one of Neptune's most expensive venues; it would have spelled out all too clearly the skewed financial power balance in their relationship. But now, they were no longer dating and Logan was trying to thank her for helping with Charlie's case; she didn't think she could have refused.

Nevertheless, Veronica felt very much like a fish out of water, stalking up and down the boards in the closest thing she possessed to a "little black dress" and wearing her single unscuffed pair of heels.

"If you keep pacing like that, you'll put a hole in their precious boardwalk. They might not like that."

Veronica spun around to see Logan grinning at her. He was looking her up and down with frank appreciation. "You clean up nice."

Veronica grinned uncomfortably. "You too." Logan was wearing a plain white button-down shirt and dark blue slacks. His hair had been carefully tousled, and she could tell he was wearing her favorite cologne. The note of sandalwood was subtle, but it was definitely there.

"Shall we go in?"

* * *

Logan had reserved a table on the outdoor deck, which jutted out into the ocean and provided a front seat to the stunning sunset unfolding over the Pacific. Small tea lights flickered on each table.

Despite the romantic setting, Veronica had carefully steered clear of anything too personal, and was now catching Logan up on her visit to San Juan Capistrano.

"I didn't find a thing in his file that would suggest any kind of conflict," she was saying now. "The principal told me his record was clean when they hired him, and it looks like it stayed that way while he worked there. No one ever even filed a complaint against him — no parents, no students, no other teachers."

"In other words, all his troubles started when he met me," said Logan with a crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Veronica watched him run his finger along the stem of his wine glass; he turned his face away from her to watch the waves come in below them. Veronica suddenly felt immeasurably sorry for him.

"So, um," she started, groping for a change of subject, "I'm surprised they served us." She nodded at their wine glasses, which held the local chardonnay the waiter had recommended. "Didn't even ask for ID."

"Yeah, well," said Logan quietly, tearing his eyes away from the view. "It's awfully convenient having a crooked sheriff's department. All it takes is a nice little donation at campaign time and you're guaranteed to be left alone for the next four years."

Veronica grinned. "Think they bribe the health department too? In this light, you wouldn't even spot a rat in your soup before it's too late."

Logan returned her grin, with interest. "Silly Veronica. Everybody knows rats don't pair with chardonnay."

Veronica slapped her forehead. "Duh. Only red wine with rodents. I forgot."

Their food soon arrived, and it was delicious. Logan ordered them another glass of wine, and as she sipped, Veronica felt a pleasant warmth slowly rising from her stomach to her face.

When Logan had paid and they'd left the restaurant, Veronica was starting to feel slightly fuzzy, and as they walked back along the boardwalk to their cars, she almost fell after stumbling over her own feet.

"Crap. I don't think I'm OK to drive yet."

Logan cocked his head in the direction of the ocean. "Beach walk? Nothing like salty air to clear your head."

Veronica nodded and they headed down towards the beach. They found a spot close to the water, but just far enough that the waves couldn't reach them, and sat. They had both taken off their shoes, and Veronica buried her toes in the sand.

For several minutes, they said nothing, and simply stared out at the ocean. The sun had fully gone down now, but a very small strip of light was still visible at the horizon. When that was gone too, Logan spoke.

"I'll pay the guy."

Veronica felt her heart sink. "What?"

"I'll pay him. Charlie can't afford to, and if the stuff in that email is as bad as he says, no one'll ever let him teach again. After what I did to him, I owe him."

"You owe him an apology, which you've given him several times," Veronica said, sounding angrier than she felt. "You don't owe him half a million dollars."

Logan shrugged. "I can get it. I'll have to cash out a couple of investments, but I can get it. There's no other way he can get his hands on that kind of money."

"But-"

"Listen, Veronica. You told me yourself that your trip today was the last thing you could think to try. There's nothing else, and Charlie needs to make a decision by the day after tomorrow."

"Logan, listen to me-"

"You also told me," he went on, relentlessly, "that your dad's contacts at the tabloids think that kind of information could be worth millions. So really," he said, looking at Veronica sadly, "we're all getting out of this cheap."

"Would you just listen to me for a minute?" Veronica was still feeling irrationally angry. The pleasant warmth she'd enjoyed a minute earlier had almost entirely dissipated. "That money is all you have left, Logan, and it isn't going to last forever. It's all you have right now to cover tuition, living expenses, medical stuff. Someday your kids' college maybe. Or retirement. Do you really want to throw all that away for a guy you've only just met?"

"He's my brother, Veronica," Logan said, his voice rising. He turned to face Veronica, and she could see even in the gathering dark that his eyes were filled with tears. "I screwed up his life because I was angry about something he didn't even do, and I can never make that up to him. But I can at least try to get him out of this mess and build some kind of relationship with him, maybe." He picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. "And it's not like I'm ever going to make it to retirement anyway," he added, quietly.

A slight breeze was coming in from the sea now and raising the small hairs on Veronica's arms. "What are you talking about?"

For some time, Logan didn't respond. Then he said, so quietly she had to strain to hear: "Come on, Veronica. You know what my life's been like. I've been accused of two separate murders. I've gotten into more fights than I can count. The PCHers almost killed me several times. Just being my girlfriend almost got you killed too. I'm sure you remember."

_Do I remember making out in the back of your car and almost having my head taken off by a shotgun? Sure, I remember_, Veronica thought. But out loud she said: "So what's your point?"

"My point is…" Logan sighed. "I'd be surprised if I make it to 30." With a visibly painful effort, he smiled and said lightly: "And what is it they say? You can't take it with you."

An uncomfortable lump had formed in Veronica's throat. Trying hard to keep her voice steady, she said: "Is that why you haven't been going to class?"

Logan shook his head in mock exasperation. "I was wondering when you'd start giving me a hard time about that, Ms. Stanford."

"Why even bother, Logan?" Veronica said. To her annoyance, she could feel a tear running down her cheek. "If you're so sure that you don't have a future, why even bother going to Hearst?"

Logan looked at her. The darkness made his expression unreadable, even though he was sitting less than two feet from her. "Because of you, Veronica," he said softly. "I never did think I had much of a future, but when you and I were together, every once in a while, it felt like maybe I was wrong."

She wasn't sure afterwards who had closed the distance between them, but it did not matter. His lips touched hers and she could feel his thumb tracing the side of her face while his other hand rested on her lower back. As Logan pulled her closer and their tongues met, Veronica felt a tingling heat rise up from between her thighs.

When they finally broke off the kiss a few minutes later, Logan moved away from her. Veronica felt again that sense of loss she remembered from their meeting at Logan's place, just a few days ago. "Veronica," Logan said quietly. "I don't want you to do anything you'll regret later. Honestly, I… I'll be fine. Your life isn't here anymore. I know that."

"It doesn't matter," Veronica said, her voice husky. She had never cared less about Stanford, or about anything else in the world, beyond this little spot of Neptune beach. "I want you."

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to take in as much of his scent as she could. If anything, the feeling of intoxication was better, stronger than her wine buzz from half an hour ago.

From the nearby Cosima deck, the sound of laughter floated across the water. Logan gently lifted Veronica's head off his chest and kissed her forehead. "Let's take this to a more private place then, shall we?"

* * *

The drive back to Logan's seemed to take ages. Several times, Veronica considered taking a turn off the PCH and heading back to her dad's apartment, but she could still smell a faint note of Logan's cologne on her clothes and feel the small wet spot on her forehead where Logan's lips had touched it.

When she pulled up in front of his house, his car was already there, and he had unlocked the door for her. As Veronica stepped inside, she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. Logan was standing by a window, waiting, still in his white shirt and slacks. When he saw her, he was with her in three strides and pulled her into a fiercely passionate kiss.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled against his cheek. "Me either."

He spun her against the wall and they stumbled down the hall to the bedroom, heedless of their surroundings. Veronica heard something smash close by her foot, but she was well past caring.

When they reached the bed, she fumbled for Logan's belt buckle as he whispered: "Veronica. I missed you so much."

Veronica made a noise in her throat that was almost a sob as Logan's belt finally gave way. Skillfully, Logan spun her around and gently lowered the zipper on her dress as he kissed the back of her neck.

When Veronica's dress fell to the floor, it was as though all the weight of the world had fallen with it. Her universe had shrunken to take in only the two of them, Logan now unbuttoning his shirt, then pushing close to her so she could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh.

She ran her hands over his biceps and felt them contracting as he lifted her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her and gently felt for the clasp of her bra. As it fell away, he paused for a moment, his eyes finding hers. "God, Veronica. I forgot just how beautiful you are."

When he entered her, the bottom fell out of the world, and they were floating in open air, moving together. She heard his breath come faster as he thrust, then pushed him back and straddled his lap, wanting him as deep inside her as he could go.

"Logan," she whispered in his ear. She wasn't sure what made her say it, but in that moment, all things seemed possible. "I'll stay with you. I'll be your future. I promise. I promise." Her last words became a scream as her climax took her. Seconds later, she felt Logan tense up, then relax as he whispered her name over and over again.

Exhausted, they fell back onto the sheets, Logan still inside her. In barely a minute, Veronica had fallen asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Veronica woke some hours later to find sunshine streaming in through the windows. Logan wasn't there, but she could hear clattering from the kitchen, and a delicious smell of bacon was beginning to waft her way.

She looked down at the heap of clothes on the floor. Suddenly feeling shy, she snuck to the nearby walk-in closet and, to her relief, found a robe. She slipped into it and padded to the kitchen in her bare feet.

Logan was at the stove, wearing only a pair of underpants.

"Hasn't anybody ever warned you against that? Cooking in your underwear?"

Logan turned and, when he saw her, his face lit up. "Hey, my most important assets are protected" he said, gesturing expansively toward his nether regions. "Want breakfast? There's coffee over there."

"God, yes." Veronica moved over to the coffee maker and poured herself a coup, then watched as Logan heaped two plates with bacon and eggs and carried them over to a small table by the glass doors that faced the ocean.

Veronica followed him and sat, then took a long, careful sip from her cup, trying to gain time. _What do I tell him? What does he expect? And let's not forget, what is it I actually want?_

"So, about last night," Logan said, watching her carefully as he picked up his own coffee cup.

"That was… something," Veronica agreed, feeling her way like a high-wire artist taking step after careful step.

"Do you remember what you said, about being my future?" He paused, looking down at his plate. "Did you mean it?" He was looking straight into her eyes now, his own full of that heartbreaking vulnerability that always seemed to wear down all her painfully acquired defenses.

Veronica was going to take a moment to weigh her answer, think about how to avoid hurting him. But instead, surprising herself, she answered from the heart before her brain could catch up. "Yes. I meant it. But I don't know if… if we can make it work. Stanford is hours away."

Logan took her hand and held it tight. "If I have to blow my last few bucks on gas to drive up there every week, so help me, I will. We'll make it work somehow. I'm done missing you. I'm done trying to pretend there's anybody else I want. I love you."

She walked over to him and sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

* * *

Two hours later, the bacon and eggs were still on the table, cold and forgotten. Veronica was draped across Logan's satin sheets, stretching as she enjoyed the warm sunlight streaming in through the window.

Logan lay on his side next to her, head propped up on his hand, watching her with amusement.

"Sure, you make people think you're this hardboiled detective chick. But deep down, you're just a harmless kitten looking for a bit of sunshine."

"Ha!" She rolled over to face him. "You better watch your step, buster. This dame ain't nobody's fool." Veronica twirled an imaginary fedora onto her head and pulled it down over her eyes.

Grinning, Logan nodded toward her bag, which was still slumped in the corner of the bedroom where Veronica had so unceremoniously dumped it the night before. "Your bag is vibrating."

"Oh. Crap." Somewhat unsteadily, Veronica clambered to her feet and climbed around the pile of clothes on the floor, which now included her recent robe and Logan's underpants.

"I could watch this all day," Logan said lazily as Veronica bent to retrieve her phone.

She shook it at him threateningly and mouthed, "My dad. Wanna chat with him?"

"Yeah, I'll call that bluff," Logan grinned and lunged across the bed towards Veronica. With a squeal, she jumped out of reach. By now, the call had gone to voicemail. Veronica punched in her password and listened.

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"Charlie's at the office. Probably wants to know what his crack private eye is doing to track down his blackmailer. I should call my dad back and get on the road."

She slumped onto the bed and started pulling on her underwear. Behind her, Logan sat up. "Can I come?"

* * *

By the time they arrived at Mars Investigations, Keith had installed Charlie on the couch in the front room with a generous cup of coffee.

As soon as Logan stepped into the room behind Veronica, the awkwardness was palpable. Charlie rose from his seat, looking lost for words. It suddenly occurred to Veronica that the brothers had never seen each other face to face.

"Hey, um, Veronica told me she was coming to see you and I thought I'd tag along, but if you'd rather, I can totally leave." His barely concealed eagerness was making Logan almost incomprehensible. Charlie blinked once, twice, then said: "No. No, this is fine. It's, um, it's nice to meet you."

Seen up close, their likeness was even more pronounced than Veronica had noticed previously. They were both standing with a slight slouch that belied their tall and lanky frames. The cut of Charlie's chin was identical to Logan's.

Keith had appeared in the doorframe leading to his office. "Why don't you all step in here? It's more private. I'll make do with the front desk in the meantime."

Veronica mouthed her thanks at Keith as she passed. He raised an eyebrow at her. _Thank God I always keep a change of clothes in the car_, she thought. _Walking in here with heels and a distinctly crumpled black dress is inconceivable._

Veronica moved behind Keith's desk and sat down in his swivel chair. Logan and Charlie took the two smaller chairs on the other side. Looking at them both together was a distinctly disorienting experience.

"So… I decided to take your advice," Charlie began, tentatively.

"My advice?"

"Yeah." Charlie smiled. "No more secret meetings at the not-so-secret Camelot. You said you worked here, so I figured you'd be around."

"Yeah, sorry, I…" Veronica was feeling unusually wrongfooted. It didn't help that she could see Logan grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. "I overslept this morning. I didn't mean to make you wait."

Charlie shrugged. "It's alright. I don't expect you to put your life on hold for this, considering I'm not even paying you."

Veronica was acutely aware that the mention of money added to the chill in the air. Determined to get the conversation on a friendlier footing, she said: "Well, I promised to help, and I will. I went to see your mom and your former principal yesterday."

Charlie looked surprised. "Mrs. Robson? She agreed to meet with you?"

Veronica nodded. "She actually had very nice things to say about you. As did your mom. Not such nice things about your girlfriend though. She basically accused her of being your blackmailer."

She had meant the statement to make an impact, and it did. Charlie flinched and looked genuinely off guard for a second. Then he said: "I guess I should've known my mom would bring her up. They, uh… didn't exactly get along the one time they met. Two strong personalities. Recipe for disaster, I guess."

"Your mom also seemed to think your girlfriend gave her a fake name," Veronica pressed on.

Logan suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Look, maybe me being here isn't actually the best idea. I could just…"

Charlie interrupted, carefully not looking at his brother. "My girlfriend is a very private person. She doesn't want to see her name in the tabloids."

Veronica frowned, confused. "But surely your mom wouldn't—"

"She wouldn't talk to the tabloids, no. But she'd talk to her friends. And her friends I'm not so sure about."

Veronica nodded. "I get that. But here's the thing: If you want me to do a thorough investigation, I'll have to talk to her, and I'll have to know her real name."

"Out of the question," Charlie said flatly. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Then I'm afraid we're running out of options," Veronica said. "Unless you can think of anyone else I should talk to."

Charlie shook his head and smiled crookedly. "Guess I could always camp out at Colony Plaza and see if anyone I know likes to mail letters there, huh?"

Logan fidgeted in his seat, and visibly struggling to figure out how to broach the subject on his mind. "Look, the reason I'm here… I want to front you the money."

"What?" Charlie stared at Logan.

"I just… I'm the reason this is all happening to you. And the money I live off… it's our father's anyway. You're just as much his son as I am. And seems like you need it more."

For a long time, Charlie said nothing. Then: "A loan."

"What?"

"A loan. I want it to be a loan. I don't want you to just give me money. I'll pay you back."

Logan nodded eagerly. "Sure, yeah, man. Whatever you want. I'll get the details taken care of today and we'll have the money ready in time for the exchange."

Both seemed at a loss for words for a moment, so Veronica said: "Logan, if the money's a loan, you guys should have some paperwork drawn up. Terms of the loan. I could get Cliff to come in later today…"

Logan scoffed. "I think we can get this done without Mr. 1-800-GOT-LAW. I know Charlie's good for the money."

He smiled shily at Charlie who, for the first time, returned his smile.

* * *

Charlie left a few minutes later, having agreed to email the blackmailer for details of the drop-off so he, Logan and Veronica could work out the logistics. Now, Logan and Veronica were standing on the sidewalk outside Mars Investigations, watching Charlie's car drive off.

Veronica took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she was about to start. "Listen, Logan, I don't think this is a good idea."

"What?" said Logan, sarcastically. "You think he'll run off with my money?"

"I just think you should protect yourself. Get something in writing," Veronica said calmly.

"I appreciate you looking out for me," Logan said. "But I need to do this."

"You really, really don't," Veronica insisted, taking Logan's hand. "Listen, I'm serious. There's something Charlie said that seemed weird, and I really want to check it out before you do anything."

Logan looked at her with a hurt expression that reminded Veronica painfully of their troubled freshman year at Hearst. "That thing just now where you dropped your keys. You were putting a tracker on his car, weren't you?" he said sharply.

Veronica nodded. "I just want to see—"

"Veronica, whatever it is, I'm asking you to let it go."

"Logan, I can't. You know I can't." Veronica said, trying to put every ounce of conviction she felt into her voice. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"If you want to look out for me, you'll leave Charlie alone," Logan said coldly. He pulled his hand out of Veronica's and walked slowly down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched.

* * *

Veronica wasn't feeling in the slightest prepared for the conversation she knew was waiting for her at the top of the stairs, in Keith's office. But she'd left her bag upstairs, so there was no escaping it.

Heaving a sigh and getting herself under control as much as she could, she pushed open the door. "Veronica," came Keith's voice from his office, sounding like the human equivalent of a thundercloud.

"Hey, Dad," she said, stepping into his office and smiling weakly. "Sorry I didn't call."

"What were you thinking, kid?" Keith said angrily. He was sitting behind his desk, looking furious. "I know you're in college now, and I don't get to dictate where you go every hour of the day. But the very least, basic human courtesy I expect is for you to let me know if you're not coming home when I expect you to."

Veronica looked contrite. It wasn't hard; she was genuinely starting to regret the events of the previous night.

"And you don't need me to tell you how I feel about Logan. I know he's not a murderer, at least not yet. But he's definitely got his father's temper and violent streak. He's not someone you can afford to be around, Veronica. You need to be focusing on Stanford and getting your degree and getting the hell out of here."

Veronica nodded. "I know," she said quietly. "I'm… I'm going home to shower, Dad. Let me know if you need my help with anything later."

She slunk out of the office and down the stairs, her father's and Logan's words still ringing in her ears. She wiped away a tear as she pushed open the building's front door and headed for the back parking lot.

Logan was sitting on the hood of the Le Baron. When he saw Veronica, he jumped up and walked towards her.

"So, as soon as I got back to my car, I realized something," he said. "I'm being a total jackass."

Veronica tried to laugh, but her tears made the sound come out more like a relieved kind of hiccup. "Must be an odd-numbered day."

Logan smiled. He reached out and touched Veronica's arm. "I seem to remember promising you at some point that I was gonna take those off the calendar." He pulled Veronica close and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry. This whole Charlie thing has me kind of rattled. I really want to get along with him."

To Veronica's annoyance, more tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I get that." She brushed off her face again and grinned mischievously. "Hey, so… I was heading home for a shower. My dad's going to be stuck at work for at least another few hours."

Logan returned her grin. "A shower, huh? Want any help with that?"

He tipped her chin up toward his face and bent down for a tender kiss. Neither he nor Veronica noticed Keith at the window two floors up, looking down onto the parking lot.


	8. Chapter 8

A few hours later, Veronica was keeping a close eye on her laptop screen, where a small tracker emitted a pulsing light in the Camelot's parking lot. She was finding it hard to stay focused, as memories of Logan's recent visit kept intruding and sending aftershocks of pleasure through her body.

She blinked, trying to dispel the feeling of Logan pressing against her from behind as shower steam surrounded them. It had been terribly risky, inviting him here. She had been sure that Keith wouldn't return for hours, but what if? _Stupid, stupid Veronica. Why does being with Logan always seem to make me turn off my brain and think with my… wait a minute._

The blinking dot on her screen was on the move. Veronica grabbed her bag and dashed out the door, heading for the Le Baron and still watching the screen as she shifted the car in to drive.

She caught up with her target at the intersection of 5th and Sunset. Charlie's car was headed for the coast. Always being careful to keep her distance, Veronica kept trailing him down the PCH, all the way to Malibu. Finally, he pulled up outside a Spanish colonial walk-up.

Veronica quickly entered the address into Prying Eyez, but the owner's name didn't look familiar. Still, that didn't have to mean anything.

She extricated her camera from her bag and attached the telephoto lens as Charlie got out of the car and walked up the outside staircase. She kept shooting as the door opened. A petite, red-haired woman hopped out of the apartment and straight into Charlie's arms.

Veronica swore loudly.

* * *

Veronica made the drive back from Malibu in a haze of misery. At some point, Keith had called to ask whether she'd be home for dinner. He had been short on the phone and still looked unhappy when Veronica finally walked in the front door. But after one look at Veronica, his expression immediately changed to one of concern. He turned off the stove and stepped away from the stir-fry he'd been working on.

"Kiddo, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I need some advice."

Keith looked taken aback, but pleased. "If I had five bucks for every time you asked for my advice and took it, I'd have… five bucks. Tops."

Veronica gave a wry little smile. "Yeah, well. For once, your age is an asset. I have a question about ethics. And, uh, relationships."

"Relationships, huh?" Keith flopped onto the living room couch with a heavy sigh.

Veronica nodded and sat down next to him, drawing up her feet for added comfort. "It's a totally hypothetical situation, of course."

"Of course," Keith agreed, nodding sagely. "Purely an academic discussion."

Veronica sighed, trying to grope for the right words. "So, hypothetically speaking, let's say there's this person you, um…" She glanced nervously at Keith. "This person you love."

Keith frowned, then said: "Sure, let's assume. Let's also assume that everyone in this hypothetical situation is at least 40 and not at all related to me."

Veronica smiled in spite of herself. "Right. So, you think someone is taking advantage of this person, and you know how to get the proof. But the… the.."

"The first person?"

"Yeah, the first person doesn't want to believe it. In fact, they would be extremely angry if you told them. In fact," Veronica bit her lip, then said quickly, "they may or may not have told you to leave the whole thing alone."

Keith thought for a minute. Then he said: "You're sure this person you… this first person, I mean, is being harmed by the other person?"

Veronica nodded. Backup had hopped up onto the couch next to her. Grateful for the warmth and company, Veronica started scratching behind the pit bull's ears. "I'm sure."

"Then you need to tell the truth," Keith said, wrapping an arm around Veronica. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I was afraid you'd say that," she said, smiling ruefully.

"Yeah, well," said Keith. "I don't claim to be an expert on healthy relationships, but I do know that if you really love someone, you have to do what's best for them. Even if that isn't the best thing for you. And especially if they can't see it for themselves."


	9. Chapter 9

The door to the Camelot's room 118 opened in response to Veronica's second knock. The bright morning sun illuminated what seemed to be thousands of dancing dust motes inside.

Charlie looked surprised to see her. "Oh, hey."

"Hey. Can I come in?"

Charlie stepped aside. As he turned away, Veronica quietly put a small piece of tape over the door bolt to ensure the door wouldn't lock. Then, she headed for the same rickety chair she'd sat in on her last visit. "Did you send the email to the blackmailer?"

Charlie nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bed opposite her. "Yeah, last night. Haven't heard anything about the exchange yet though."

Veronica nodded. She looked down at the carpet, focusing for a moment on a small discolored spot next to her left foot. Then: "How long have you been seeing Trina Echolls?"

Charlie looked astonished for a moment. Then he smiled. "How did you find out?"

"Tailed you to Malibu," Veronica said curtly. "Back to my question."

"Huh." Charlie gave her an appraising look. "She called me a couple of days after Logan went on Larry King."

"Let me guess. She wanted to chat about Logan."

Charlie shrugged. "Yeah. She told me Aaron was innocent, and the whole accusation was a frame-up job engineered by Logan and his girlfriend." He gave Veronica a smile that suddenly reminded her forcibly of Aaron. It was a cynical smile; a predator's smile. "I expect that was you."

Veronica nodded. "Yeah, that was the story Aaron and his lawyer cooked up at the trial." Her voice had begun to shake with rage. "It was a lie then, and it's a lie now. Aaron slept with my best friend, his son's girlfriend, then killed her. Then he tried to kill me to cover it up."

Charlie looked at her coldly. "I heard they found the real murder weapon, and it proved the brother did it."

Veronica's fists were clenched, every fiber in her body coiled with rage. "Duncan would never have killed his sister."

"Oh yeah," Charlie said, barely veiling his contempt. "I forgot. You dated _him_ too."

"I'm not here to litigate my love life," Veronica replied, forcing herself to remain calm. "I'm here because I want to know why you staged the blackmail."

Charlie frowned. "Why do you think it was me?"

"Several reasons," Veronica said, holding up her fingers to count them off. "One, your mom thought your girlfriend gave her a fake name. I might have dismissed that as paranoia, but I recognized it as the name of the character Trina played in 'Wilder Things.' Two, you mentioned camping out at Colony Plaza to keep an eye on the post office. The postmark on a letter only shows the city it's mailed from. In this case, Malibu. But Malibu has three post offices, and only one of them is at Colony Plaza. Stands to reason you somehow already knew where the letter had been mailed. Three, Trina doesn't have the intellectual chops to pull off this kind of plan. So." She gave Charlie a hard look. "Why'd you do it?"

Charlie grinned his shark grin again. "Trina didn't think that Logan deserved any of Aaron's money, after trying to frame him for murder. Who knows — he might even have had him killed. Trina thought so. And I was furious with him for what he did to me. That's how we bonded."

"Charming," Veronica said drily. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that she's your sister?"

Charlie shrugged. "She's adopted. We're not blood relatives."

"Yeah. I see how that's fine now," Veronica said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "You probably got the idea when you found out one of your students died in a car crash. She wouldn't be able to contradict your story, so you faked an email conversation with her — easy enough to do — and sent yourself the blackmail letter, guaranteeing there wouldn't be any fingerprints on it except your own. Then you called Logan for help, hoping you could use promises of brotherly forgiveness to charm his trust fund out of him." She smiled grimly. "It worked, of course."

"Inconveniently for me, he's still on good terms with his private-eye ex," Charlie said with a sneer. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"Sorry to disappoint. So what next? Are you going to use Logan's savings to bankroll one of Trina's harebrained movie ideas? I read in The Instigator that you've been meeting with producers. That's actually true, isn't it?"

"It is. Trina helped me write a treatment about my life story. I might even get to play myself."

Veronica stared at him in disbelief. "I guess your name in the tabloids suddenly doesn't sound so bad."

Charlie shrugged. "It'll help my career. And now that the whole blackmail thing's over, Trina and I can go public. All that publicity should be enough to get the movie made, with or without Logan's money."

"Of course, there's just one tiny thing you're forgetting," Veronica said. "If Logan chooses to press charges, you're on the hook for defrauding him. Not so easy to jumpstart an acting career from prison."

Charlie grinned and leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Veronica's. "You don't have anything on me. No proof. Only theories. And what's more," he whispered, "I don't think you'll tell him."

"I don't have to," Veronica said, leaning back and crossing her arms. "I called him last night and told him I'd get the blackmailer to show up at the Camelot. I said I needed him to stay in his car close by and listen to the conversation, in case things went wrong." She pulled aside the collar of her t-shirt slightly to reveal a small electronic bug attached to her chest. "He's heard the whole thing."

Charlie smiled dismissively. "You're bluffing."

"She's not." The door had opened, and Logan was standing in the frame, shaking with suppressed rage.

Charlie's demeanor changed instantly. He hitched a shy, charming smile onto his face. "Hey, man, whatever you think you heard…"

"Spare me," Logan said coldly. "I'll say this for you. You fit right into the family." He smiled mirthlessly. "Enjoy Trina. I expect you'll hold her interest for another two months or so. Then, she'll shack up with some producer, and you'll be right back where you started. An ex-teacher with no future."

Charlie's voice was calm, but it held that same edge as Logan's — that warning. "Enjoy your money, Logan. But this isn't over."

"You know," said Logan bitterly, "they say money can't buy happiness. I don't know what they're talking about. I've had a charmed life, wouldn't you say?"

He turned to Veronica. "Come on. Let's go."

Veronica followed Logan out the door. He was walking so fast that she was having trouble keeping up. Finally, when they'd reached the Le Baron, he stopped.

Veronica looked up, feeling scared, trying to read Logan's expression. "You OK?"

"I asked you to let this go," he said quietly.

"I know, but do you see now why I couldn't?" Veronica asked, wanting desperately for Logan to understand. "I knew there was something wrong with the whole thing. I couldn't let you throw away your money like that."

"I asked you to let it go," Logan repeated. "But you couldn't let me have this, could you?" he said, his voice rising. "You had to prove that you were right. Even though you knew, you _knew_ how much this was going to hurt me."

Veronica reached out to touch Logan's arm, but he pulled away. "Hurting you is the last thing I want to do."

Logan gave a mirthless chuckle. "Could've fooled me. That was you who accused me of murdering Lilly, right? Then went to the sheriff without even talking to me? And to cap it all off, I call you for help with that scum Lamb listening in, having the time of his life. Yeah, you're right. Stupid Logan. Of course you'd never hurt me."

Stunned, Veronica struggled to formulate a coherent response. Finally, she said quietly: "You're right. I knew you'd get hurt. But I figured it was better than losing all that money. That's your future, Logan."

"I told you before," he said. "I don't have a future."

He turned and walked away, leaving Veronica staring after him.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The rest of that day and the next day, I spent in my room, watching my phone. Some time during the second day, Wallace showed up, wanting to see if I was OK. I asked Dad to send him away. I couldn't muster up the energy to talk to anyone; even my best friend.

On the third day, I told my Dad that I'd spend the rest of the summer at a friend's apartment in Stanford. He promised to let me know if there were any cases I could help out with remotely. My drive back up there took me past Oceanfront Drive. I did my best to look the other way.

A few months later, Wallace told me that Logan finally dropped out of Hearst. He hardly ever came to class anyway, so apparently, few people miss him around campus.

After a lot of mental back and forth, I decided to text Logan, just to check in: "Hey. Heard you dropped out. Everything OK?"

I never heard back.

We haven't been in touch since.


End file.
